Tethered and Free
by gigi2690
Summary: She wasn't sure what possessed her to make her way to the library at 3 in the morning; all she did know was that she couldn't keep lying in bed trying not to see a certain woman's face in the cracks on the ceiling. Myka/H.G. Wells
1. Chapter 1

She wasn't sure what possessed her to make her way to the library at 3 in the morning; all she did know was that she couldn't keep lying in bed trying not to see a certain woman's face in the cracks on the ceiling. Time had moved differently of late, it was if every artifact she was sent for was a joke, laughing at her inability to get beyond her crush. First it was the scarf of a 19th century mistress that made the wearer remember their moments of greatest temptation. That made for an awkward moment when it was wrapped around her neck in front of Pete. Then there was the eyeglasses of Copernicus, which made her see what she most desired in the universe. Both times Helena Wells burned in her mind and behind her eyes. She could not escape it.

It wasn't fair. H.G. Wells had wormed her way into her heart years ago. Myka couldn't count the nights she spent reading over H.G. Wells' novels, her fingertips grazing over a particularly poignant passage wondering where the author was when he – or she as Myka later discovered- the idea entered his mind. The memory of their first meeting overtook her thoughts. She stopped her journey down the darkened hall and leaned against the wall. She sunk down it until she could tuck her arms around her knees and grab at the confusion of curls obscuring her face.

Her surprise that day, her surprise to find that H.G. Wells was not only not a man, but a statuesque woman carved from marble, and chiseled with cheekbones Aphrodite herself would envy. She knew the moment she laid eyes on Helena Wells and that low curling fire awoke within her, that her job had just gotten much more complicated. And even though the propriety, loyalty, and maturity in her flared up in defense, a more childlike and primal side of her kept creeping up and messing with her. Here was one of her "ought to be dead" idols in the flesh. A woman obviously more foreword thinking than her time, obviously strong and brilliant. A woman whose intelligence and wit was only matched by her charm and beauty. Part of her knew when she threw H.G against the wall that she was doomed; she simply enjoyed it too much. The tingling where her fingers grazed Helena's neck, the heaving of her chest, she wanted to run away and never move at the same time.

And yet again the beguiling Helena Wells immobilized her. Chastising herself, she pulled up off the floor and headed on towards the library. Helena. She tried her best not to call her that, it was too personal. It made that curling fire intensify, and Myka would have to get out of the situation before she acted on it. It didn't help that she would often catch Helena looking at her. At first it irritated her. That smirk she'd catch after she bent down to pick something up, or had just jumped a bad guy. She hated it most because when Helena was caught she was never embarrassed, her grin would grow and her eyes would hold hers until Myka ended up looking away, cheeks flaming. Then one day she wasn't doing anything. Just sitting, drinking coffee, and she caught Helena looking out at her out of the corner of her eye. She didn't turn to look at her, because this time, the gaze was different. It wasn't appraising or lecherous, it was soft and vulnerable. It filled Myka with a warmth that heated her up far better than the coffee in her hands. That was the first time Myka knew it wasn't just about sex. Helena had feelings.

While this ought to make it better, it just made it worse. If it was just about sex, Myka could just avoid it or even let herself give in and not think about how it made her feel. Maybe. So far she'd tried her best to avoid being alone with Helena, which she'd been fairly successful at.

Unfortunately this meant avoiding the library. Helena seemed to love dwelling in the dusty rows and old couches as much as Myka. The library had always been a refuge. She could lose herself in the books and the stories they told. Only now, even when she did hazard coming to the library, she found herself drawn to the works of the same brunette that plagued her mind.

She was too tired to fight the compulsion now. She traversed the rows until she found the one she wanted. Picking up a worn copy of "The Soul of a Bishop," she settled into the corned of the couch, choosing to forgo the lights and read by candlelight instead. She lost herself in the pages, but was soon shaken from them by the sound of footsteps.

"I thought I heard someone about." Myka started, of course, Helena.

Myka quickly closed the book but didn't miss the hint of a smile on Helena's lips as her eyes took in the title.

"I couldn't sleep." Helena's smile widened,

"So you choose to read about a story involving mental crises and insomnia? Intriquing." Helena drew closer, but stopped about two feet in front of Myka. She knelt down until she was eye level. Holding Myka's gaze, she slowly pulled the book from Myka's lap. She drew in a shallow breath as she felt Helena's nails lightly scraping down her thighs as she pulled the book from her grasp. Still kneeling, Helena began to flip through the book, obviously searching for something.

Myka should have used this opportunity to gather her wits and calm the fire in her body, but she couldn't help but use it instead to study the other woman, this raven-haired beauty kneeling before her in a knee length silk nightdress. A pale hue of blue, bringing out the ivory of her skin and the tinge of pink gracing her collarbones. Her hair was more disheveled than she remembered ever seeing it. She'd either been tossing in bed, or perpetually running her hands though it. Either way, it seemed she wasn't the only one restless tonight.

Helena's lilting accent broke her musings, "Again in a slight detail he marked his strange and novel detachment from the world of his upbringing. His hallucination of disillusionment had spread from himself and his church and his faith to the whole animate creation." Helena didn't look up from the book to meet Myka's questioning gaze, she instead spoke on while watching her hands picking at the tear in the binding,

"You want to know what I see in you. I see it when you catch me looking at you. It's like you don't know why you've captivated me so," she paused and let out a small self-deprecating laugh, "I think we're both past the point of denying the dance we've been doing, and my manner has hardly been subtle." The left corner of Myka's mouth quirked into a half-grin even through her shock; no, Helena certainly hadn't been subtle. Although truthfully, she knew she had been almost as obvious. She wasn't used to seeing this side of Helena. This wasn't all confidence and charm; this was soft. This was the Helena that she'd sometimes catch looking at her during those quiet moments. The awareness that she was finally talking to the softer less assured woman behind the infamous H.G. Wells, sent the fire in her burning with an intensity yet unfelt. It immobilized her. She couldn't move or it would send her towards the other woman. She was caught in her gravity.

Helena still hadn't looked up and was thus unaware of this change in Myka, she continued on, "I was disenchanted by the world after my Christina died. Nothing could spark my interest, not the new artifacts, not new inventions, not writing, nothing. I went into the bronzer hoping to wake up differently. But while I love the computer, microwave and especially the electric kettle, it still wasn't enough. I couldn't see colours anymore. And then there was you, and my world exploded. You were the tether that brought me back to the world. And you didn't even realize it. You were everything I hoped for women in my future. A job, determination, brilliant, forward thinking, the fact that you were beautiful was a delight as well. All of this, and you had read my work. I had existed on. I had remained a part of this world even after I had forsaken it. It was you that helped show me that it was worth being a part of. Your silent strength and open snark, even those silly red rope candies you hoarded fascinated me." She broke off again, clearly having said more than she had wanted to, but not regretting it either. It was clearly going to be let all on the table now, and Myka knew the decision of how to move forward would rest with her.

Little did Helena know that the decision was made the moment she had knelt down beside her. Myka was enraptured and every word that fell from the other woman's lips just increased her yearning. Her nails were now tearing slightly into the arm of the couch, trying to hold herself back. Trying to absorb every word rather than cover Helena's lips with her own. Helena of course chose that moment to bite down on her bottom lip, causing Myka to stifle a groan. And she had been so good at being quiet.

Helena looked up at her. Myka had expected a smug grin or smirk, but instead, Helena just looked at her. She held her gaze with such an open intensity, that Myka felt herself falling into their depths. They were so dark, almost black. In the flicker of the candlelight, she couldn't make out where the iris ended and the pupil began. Something inside Myka snapped. She sprung off the couch like a tightly wound coil and had Helena's face in her hands before the other woman could blink.

Pulling her up Myka backed her until she was pinned against the nearest bookcase, their lips colliding as Helena's back banged roughly against the bindings of books. Myka was like a starved lion, and she wasn't sure she could ever sate this hunger. Of course, one must try. The nightdress slid under her fingers like water as she traced over Helena's hips and rose to stroke the underside of her breasts. Myka could tell that Helena was trying to catch her breathe between each kiss, each one a little longer and more ardent than the one before. Myka smiled into Helena's mouth as she realized how much she liked seeing Helena this way. She decided at that moment that she must see her come completely undone. She'd never wanted to see something more, and she wasn't sure that the sight wouldn't be the end of her and whatever control she had left over this situation. But this thought was too quiet to be heard over the thudding of her heart in her chest and Helena's panting in her ear. Lifting her mouth from the woman's neck, she saw a mark already forming,

"My room, now." For once Helena didn't have a witty response at her disposal. Cheeks flushed, chest heaving, each inhale raising her cleavage just a little higher out of the nightdress. She just smiled, and took Myka's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

The cool silk of her nightdress did little to lessen the heat of her flesh. Everywhere Myka touched, Helena burned, in the most excruciatingly delicious manner imaginable. Myka had backed her through the hall until she found herself at Myka's door, all without removing her lips from Helena's pulse point. An impressive feat given it meant neither of them was watching where they were going. Helena had put up a little resistance to Myka's pushing at first, perhaps out of pride perhaps to see what her new lover would do. Myka simply grabbed her around the small of her back and lifted, the agent's lean frame was deceiving to the power she held inside her.

Her mind was swimming; Myka seemed intent on imbibing all her oxygen and control. She had yet to set her down; Helena found herself held aloft, pressed between the door and Myka's heaving bosom. Not an unpleasant place to be. Neither of them was wearing a bra, and the constant press and friction of their chests was causing her nipples to harden painfully beneath her nightdress. Myka broke the kiss to lick at the shell of her ear, and Helena shuddered in reply, clutching at the taller woman's bare shoulders. One of Helena's legs slid lasciviously up Myka's backside, drawing them even closer. The other soon did the same, and with both legs wrapped around her lover, Myka let go of her waist and let both hands roam unheeded.

Helena's hands were wrapped in her dark mane. She'd always loved Myka's curls: the way they bounced around her face as she spoke. When she'd been on the run in her effort to end the world she'd seen a woman on the street with hair like Myka. It had stopped her dead in her tracks; if she had been wiser, she'd have known then and there that her plan was doomed. Now that she was back, Helena intended on making whatever hair-straightening device it was that Myka used disappear. Helena pulled Myka's lips to her own again, kissing her in a way that's more teeth than tongue. It was only when Helena felt Myka's hand slip up her inner thigh that she forced their lips apart,

"Myka Darling? I think we ought not go any farther while we're still in the hallway. If Pete were to go to the bathroom right now..." Myka's hand stopped its ascent; she snickered against her throat,

"He'd never shut up about it." Helena didn't really care who saw, but she knew Myka did. Myka shook her head from side to side slowly, as if clearing a fog. Helena tried to use the pause to catch her breath, but before she could the hand still poised high on her inner thigh suddenly clawed sharply back down causing Helena's head to loll back. She arched off the door, one single bundle of nerves and need. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her nails were digging deeply into Myka's shoulder blades. When she looked back down, she found Myka giving her the most voracious look she'd ever seen.

Without breaking eye contact, Myka pushed open the door and carried Helena into the room. She was dropped onto the bed one second, and Myka was back on top of her the next. They both fought for dominance, attempting and failing to force the other into submission. She pulled Myka's tongue into her mouth and sucked hard, milking a not so quiet whimper from the other woman's lips. Helena grasped the hem of the younger woman's shirt, and froze, struck with a sudden moment of uncertainty. She'd seen this scene a thousand times in her mind; but she had assumed Myka wouldn't still want her, given all she'd done. She had confessed her feelings tonight because she could see Myka agonizing over her intentions, and Helena just couldn't bear hurting her anymore, not because she had believed it would land her here on Myka's bed with the goddess of a woman trying to swallow her whole. As it was she saw the betrayal in Myka's eyes every night when she closed her eyes,

"Are you... certain?" Her voice was rough and cracked ever so slightly; she had to ask even though she dreaded the answer. Myka sat up so that she was straddling her waist. Her eyes hadn't lessened their intensity, but her smile was soft, and this time the warmth that flooded over Helena was more sentimental than sensual. Myka rolled her hips purposefully against her abs, and Helena's breath hitched at the moist heat she felt. She tenderly slid her hands over Helena's, subduing their slight tremor, and helped her pull the nightshirt off,

"Shut up." Whatever retort had been on the tip of her tongue, vanished as her eyes took in the sudden reveal of naked flesh. Toned arms, flat inviting stomach, perfectly shaped breasts, hardened nipples just begging to have her lips wrapped around them. Helena attempted to sit up and do just that, but halfway up she was roughly shoved back down on the mattress, a grunt escaping her lips as the air was knocked from her lungs. Myka' hands were on her hips now, slowly easing the nightdress up, marking every inch of newly uncovered skin with teeth and tongue. Helena shut her eyes tight and enjoyed the sensation, but when Myka reached her breasts, she stopped. Helena cracked open one eye and waited for Myka to speak. She had an inkling of what had caused Myka to still against her,

"Nipple piercings?" Her tone was part teasing part, well if Helena had to put a name to the emotion, covetous.

"Don't look at me; Emily Lake apparently had a kinky side behind her obsession with literature and questionable taste in pets." Myka snorted, and Helena marveled- not for the first time- at how quickly Myka could shift from adorable to sexy and vice versa. One moment she wanted to wrap her in a hug and protect her from the world, and the next she wanted to throw her against a wall, eat her out and make her scream. Myka's tongue flitted out briefly to tease one hardened nipple and Helena bit down on her lip, swallowing her moan.

"The regents gave her a kinky side?" As much as Helena loved conversing with the younger woman, she found herself more wanton to touch and be touched by the second,

"I highly doubt those backwards prigs even know the meaning of the word. I like to think a little of me resisted being ripped from my body, that I wasn't wholly gone." Myka smiled down at her, and lightly flicked the barbell on her right nipple,

"I like it." And like that, the urgency was back. Myka sucked her left nipple into her mouth; alternating between twirling her tongue around the barbell and biting down, and her other hand kneaded her right breast in her palm. Helena's hips bucked instinctively seeking friction where she wanted to be touched most, but Myka ignored her, instead latching onto her the skin just above her collarbone and biting down, hard. Helena's hands began exploring, but were quickly grabbed and thrown over her head. Myka held both of her wrists in one hand, there was a moment of shuffling, what for Helena could not determine as her vision was obscured by a mess of curls. A second later she felt silk on her skin and then Myka's hands were back on breasts, teasing the already too hard nubs. Helena returned the favour, or she would have if her attempt to move her arms had succeeded.

Her eyes darted up and narrowed at the sight of her wrists swathed in silk scarves, affixing her to the headboard. She turned to give the woman hovering over her a stern glare. Much to her chagrin, her glare was met with raucous laughter.

"Is the legendary H.G Wells pouting?" Helena balked and pulled again on her binds,

"I do not pout. And if you want me to show you something legendary I suggest you release my hands." Myka gave her an indulgent grin and leaned down to whisper in her ear,

"Later, first it's my turn." With that Myka slid down her body, lingering here and there to leave a kiss or nip at any sensitive spots she found. When she reached her underwear, she lightly trailed her fingers lightly back and forth; Helena strained her neck to meet Myka's gaze, as she continued tracing back and forth just under the hem of her underwear. Helena held her gaze as she let out a groan from deep in back of her throat,

"Tease." What happened next was a blur. She saw white. Her back arched, suspending the top half of her body off the bed as she strained against her restraints; her mouth froze in the shape of an O. Two fingers or was it three? Smooth strokes moving to an ever-increasing tempo. Myka's thumb was rubbing tight circles around her clit, and the pressure was building to a level that was equal parts bliss and torment. With each stroke, Myka vibrated against her, skin sliding against skin, made slick with their combined arousal. Helena managed to wedge one knee between Myka's parted legs, so as with every rock of their bodies, her knee pressed against Myka's centre.

Helena was all but thrashing against her restraints at this point, moving in sync to the woman hovering not a breath above her. Even as the sensations overwhelmed every nerve in her body, Helena couldn't help but revel at Myka's beauty. Eyes shut tight, brow furrowed in an effort to keep up their impossible pace, sweat matting her hair against her forehead, Helena couldn't remember ever seeing her more beautiful.

When Helena's back suddenly froze, her full breasts thrust into the air, shaking the bed as she screamed out her orgasm, Myka followed suit; her mouth latching onto a pert nipple and biting down to muffle her own scream. Myka shook and trembled till her arms could no longer support her, falling heavily onto Helena's soft body. Helena could feel tears in the corner of her eyes; utterly spent she took in a deep breath, breathing in the smell of sweat, sex, and Myka.

I haven't decided if I'm doing a part 3. Do you like it? Shall I go on?

If you found me on tumblr, a like or reblog is most appreciated :)


	3. Helena's turn

**Author's Note: All the feedback was absolutely lovely, and it definitely seemed that there was a desire for Helena to have a turn. So hopefully I did you proud :) Enjoy.**

Helena eased out of her grasp and leaned down to her ear, dark silken trees fell around Myka's face, making the words that followed resonate all the more deeply within her chest,

"My turn."

Myka turned her face and leaned up, seeking Helena's lips, but the older woman slid out of reach with a click of the tongue and a husky titter that instantly caused a tightening low in her gut.

Helena slid to the down the bed, coming to rest just to the left of her calves. Her intent was clear in her pointed gaze, Myka was to lie still. Even as she groaned at the realization, the tightness only intensified, a blush unwittingly spreading across her chest and cheeks at the knowing grin that followed. The smile faded and the intensity came back to her eyes,

"Do you know how long I've wanted this?" Helena's voice slid over her, heavy and low, as tangible as a touch and just as inciting, "How long I've wanted you." Helena did touch her now, just fingertips tracing a circle over one knee and then the other, "I wanted to take you right there; your body pulled deliciously tight across my ceiling- your partner watching and all." As the fingers trailed under her knee she jerked even though she'd seen it coming- having been wholly unable to tear her eyes away from the entrancing scene unfolding at the end of her bed. She'd been moved by the writer's words ever since her father read Myka her novels as a child; and now, the words falling the writer's lips affected her just as intensely, albeit they moved her in a decidedly different fashion.

"I thought of you that night," both hands now- still excruciatingly gentle-slid up each of Myka's thighs, "I touched myself; I touched myself that night for the first time in a century," Myka's legs fell open with a gasp and Helena's hands gladly slid across the expanse of inner thigh now left exposed to the cool air, "I touched myself, and I thought of you. And do you know?" Between Helena's deep, deliberate yet impassioned tone and teasing fingers that were drawing small circles at the apex of her thighs, Myka sincerely hoped she wasn't meant to answer that question. That would require thoughts beyond, _oh god. Oh god. Helena. More, _and _Know What?!_

Thankfully the pause appeared to be for dramatic effect as Helena continued on, fingers denying Myka's silent pleas to be touched where she wanted most, needed most, coasting instead along the line of her hip bone, "You have exceeded every one of my expectations." A smirk crept across Helena's lips; she leaned over –tips of her dark tresses brushing against Myka's sides as she blew across the drying sweat in the valley between her breasts, "and you know what a spectacular imagination I have." What started as a laugh ended in a moan, from low and deep in her throat.

Myka's hands fisted the sheet above her head. She attempted to rub her legs together to ease the ache if only for a moment, but long slender fingers tightened around her inner thighs, pulling them apart with a teasing chuckle, a small exhale ghosting over her abs, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Helena had barely touched her, and already she was overcome: overcome by the fervent beating of her heart, overcome by the fire that was already swelling to an inferno, overcome by how close to that glorious precipice she already was, overcome with a sense of urgency, a need, that far surpassed anything she'd ever felt before. Not with any of the lovers in her past, not even Sam. Myka wasn't sure what she would do when the fingertips (that were now flitting up one side – grazing just under the swell of her breasts – and sliding down the other side) gained any more pressure. As light as the touches were, they were not aimless.

No. Myka had the distinct impression that she was being studied, an invention Helena was figuring out how to best take apart. She could feel it in the way Helena's fingers would still momentarily at every place that made her breath hitch; the way they scratched ever so lightly across the spot on her side that made her whimper. And if the touches weren't enough, Myka could read it on Helena's face. Since their very first meeting, Myka had spent hours going over their interactions in her head, analyzing every amused quirk of an eyebrow, every uncomfortable pursing of the lips: grasping at anything to further understand the Victorian artificer that had captivated her mind and stolen her heart. Anything to pull her in deeper even though she was already in over her head. But she didn't need those skills now.

Helena's expression was transparent: lust, tenderness, wonderment, and that mix of the desire to understand a puzzle with the absolute confidence that the answer was within her grasp that was wholly Helena. Myka had never considered herself a worthy of wonder, not until Helena. The traits and quirks she hid from a life of being ostracized, or worse, just ignored; Helena saw them all, but more than see them, she delighted in them. And now with the wonderment and adoration searing Helena's gaze and written in tender sweeping strokes across her skin, Myka believed it.

Wide, dilated eyes followed the movement of her hands. Hands that had yet to take hold. And Myka wanted to be held- she wanted to be pulled, pushed, scratched, bitten, tasted- she wanted so much more than these teasing yet achingly reverent touches, but she couldn't bring herself to break the flow of words that spurred the arousal from deep within her just as much as Helena's touch. An arousal that was dizzying and on the verge of painful, an edge Myka never realized was so electrifying to walk.

For the first time since Helena began to speak, Myka broke eye contact. Her eyes fluttered closed as her body shuddered, unable to process the intensity of this arousal. It was exquisite; it was excruciating. It was at once everywhere and everything and nowhere and not nearly enough.

"My darling Myka." It was but a whisper, words escaping on the breath of a small sigh. Myka wasn't sure if these words were meant for her. All thoughts of this ceased abruptly as Myka felt the tip of a tongue dip into her bellybutton, twirling – once, twice, three times. And there were nails carving down that spot on her side, and teeth digging into her hips, and it was like every nerve in Myka's body exploded at once. Helena was everywhere, biting, clawing, tasting; each stroke as deliberate as it was fervent: meticulously attempting to burrow into the marrow of her bones. Her hands kneaded her breasts, rolling hardened peaks until Myka cried out, soothing the pain by enveloping them in warm wet heat and then biting down. She was everywhere but where Myka needed her most, and the balance between pleasure and pain was starting to shift. Myka struggled for her voice,

"He-lena." A low growl reverberated against her abdominals. Myka's own voice sounded so hoarse, laced with every iota of the need throbbing between her legs, "Please."

Mouths rarely fit perfectly, as much as the romances of Myka's teen years were oft to say, her and Helena's didn't. But it was the imperfection, the friction, the slight scraping of teeth, the feeling of barely chapped lips sliding against her own, it was this imperfection that made it all together perfect. Helena was tracing the roof of her mouth when Myka felt her enter her. No teasing, just suddenly there- three fingers- sliding easily into her, her walls already tightening as Myka's hips bucked up to pull her in deeper.

And Myka could no longer lie still as both hands wove their way into dark locks, hips pivoting up to meet every smooth stroke of Helena's hand. From the way the bed was shaking she was certain there was a fair amount of creaking of the B&B's rather aged bed frame, but she couldn't hear it over the blood pounding in her head. And if she were really going to worry herself with any noise that may wake her coworkers, she really ought to be more concerned with the wide arrange of vocalizations falling from her lips: moans, whimpers, groans, and the occasional curse when Helena's talented fingers managed to reach that elusive spot that made her toenails curl. But she wasn't concerned, about any of it. Her only concerns were to meet every thrust and to devour as much as she could of the other woman's mouth. There was blood in the kiss now, from whose lip she didn't know, but the metallic taste just added to the heady haze.

She did hear when Helena ripped away from her lips to breathe low but firmly in her ear,

"Come for me."

And she did. Having been on this precipice for so long, the release was almost violent in its intensity. Her back arched, her lips parted but once again she found herself soundless under the force and immensity of the crashing sensations. Wave after wave, Helena's thrusts didn't falter as her vision went white; they didn't slow as her nails gouged into her shoulder blades. Myka knew she must have already been on her second orgasm by now, but everything was blurred together and soon as she spared a thought that really orgasms couldn't last this long, she was lost again.

Only when she began to twitch in Helena's arms did she begin to slow, holding her just as Myka's body fell limp. Utterly spent, with eyes that had yet to open since the beginning of her first orgasm, Myka reached out blindly for Helena's hand. Fingers slid into hers, and Myka couldn't help the dopey smile that spread across her face. She felt the older woman's weight settling onto her side, and the last thing she heard was Helena calling her beautiful.

**Considering doing a morning after final chapter. As always, it depends on what my lovely readers think. My muse loves feedback, and so do I :)**


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